... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Author's notes:
1) Sorry about the delay, everybody
2) This should go without saying, but for the benefit of a small group of people, I'm adding this in: This is a story exploring Harry's adjustment to life after the world has become a safer place. He's used to danger, and in a peaceful world he's subconsciously sought it out any way he can. Moreover – this story focuses on his inability to adjust. He's not thinking especially rationally, and he's behaving more and more obsessively. He's not thinking about the major concerns that would trouble any of us because, to him right now, they don't matter.
3) A slightly more adult chapter (just in case that's not your thing)
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
It was December 23rd and the courtroom was decorated merrily for the season with candles twinkling happily in wreaths and rich garlands lining each doorway. If it wasn't for the shouting mob breaking out into riot around him, Harry was certain this could have actually been a lovely room to spend an afternoon in.
Two rows ahead of him, Draco sat next to his mother with an arm curled stiffly over her shoulders. The crowd had burst furiously to life before the announcement of Lucius' acquittal had even been completed. They leapt to their feet at once, shouting angrily for a retrial, and some even for execution. The sound of their rage was deafening and Harry stood and nodded along, affecting an outraged demeanor as he stretched up to watch the Malfoy family's reaction.
Draco stood immediately to leave, and Harry could see that he had taken his mother by the elbow to help her to her feet. Narcissa's shoulders, usually straight and proud, were slumped and she appeared to be gripping at the back of her seat for support. Huge men in dark robes ushered them out to safety as she anxiously twisted her hands.
The guards who had dogged Harry's every step for months escorted him to this flat and took their leave without a word. With the trials complete, their work was done and he found himself completely alone at last.
His flat turned out to be small, cold and poorly decorated. An enormous violet couch sat bloated and hideous in the middle of the main room facing a small, drafty fireplace. It was very likely that Ginny had chosen this as a kind of punishment. The door to the bedroom was to his right, and the kitchen stood at the far end of the space. To most people this may have been a tremendously disappointing place to spend the holidays. Harry loved it.
In the bedroom he found a double bed and a large wardrobe, the top two drawers filled with Ginny's things. He also found three bottles of red wine and a short note from her expressing remorse and a general sense of affection that made him uncomfortable. Casting the sheet of parchment aside, he took one of the bottles to the kitchen and opened it.
He lit a fire and sat with an untouched glass for a long time, running over the courtroom scene again and again. Both Narcissa and Draco had seemed shocked and disappointed with the verdict. Harry supposed this had been somewhat expected after everything the family had been through, and the frustrated crowd screaming insults at their family could have been a surprise. Of course both of them must have harboured some kind of anger toward Lucius after everything he had put them through, but he had never expected to see Narcissa, usually cold as ice and precisely as unyielding, to fall victim to her own shock in public. From where Harry had been standing, she looked small and utterly frightened.
Harry took a deep sip of his wine and stared intently at the flames, trying to clear his mind. None of this was any of his concern. The Malfoys were none of his concern. He needed to focus on his own future - finishing his year at Hogwarts and building a life with Ginny. This was what he had been struggling for all of these years after all. He tried to imagine her laughing, her hair gleaming like copper fire in the sun as her face broke out into a beautiful smile. That was what he'd been working for. That was what he surely needed. A simple life with a woman who loved him. But in his mind's eye, her colours drained away; the red of her hair faded to white and her warm eyes turned to steel.
The wine tasted bitter in his mouth and he felt suddenly miserable. Knowing there was no one brooding after him in the other room left him feeling lonely and strangely angry. He knew that when he woke in the morning, he would be alone with no one dragging the covers off of him and glaring down with hurt, pale eyes. As much as it felt shameful, he knew that he'd rather spend the holidays being shouted at and insulted by him than loved by her.
He finished his glass and poured himself another.
Falling into a habitual brooding state, he ignored what sounded like a quiet rapping at his front door. He swallowed the wine in three quick gulps and poured himself one more. This would be his last for the night, he promised himself as he downed the entire glass. He would just get drunk enough to fall asleep. He stretched out on the couch and allowed himself to drift off.
The fire was low when the knocking returned, startling him awake. It took him a moment to remember where he was as he shuffled to the door, opening it just a crack. Snow was falling heavily outside and the willowy, hooded figure in the doorway was coated in a heavy layer of it. Harry stepped aside and let him in. He removed the sodden cloak and hung it on the crooked coat rack nearby. He'd known he'd turn up eventually, but he'd expected it to take a few days.
Aside from the violent shivering, Draco stood perfectly still. He stared at a stain on the ceiling and gnawed viciously on his lower lip.
"Hello, Malfoy. Want a glass of wine?" Harry asked casually. He was tremendously pleased with the visit, but it seemed vital not to let on how he felt.
Draco took a moment to react and then shook his head slowly. He moved in as he always did, standing just a breath away for a second or two before continuing on to collapse into the massive couch cushions. He leaned forward and buried his head in his hands without a word.
Harry studied him for a moment before speaking. "I can get you a blanket - "
"Shut up." His words came as a low growl. "Where were you three hours ago?"
"Here. I heard knocking, but I wanted to be on my own."
Draco ran his fingers through his hair, nodding angrily as he sat up to stare wild-eyed at Harry. "I needed to see you!" he snapped. "I needed your help!"
"What's happened?" he found that he no longer felt surprise when being shouted at like this.
"Doesn't matter," Draco muttered, as if to himself.
Harry sat down next to him and placed an awkward hand on his shoulder. He was still shaking slightly and his clothes were soaked through with icy water. Fragmented images burst to life at the back of Harry's mind like a flash of lightning at the touch and he remembered the feel of deep scars beneath his tongue and the sound of heavy breath.
Heart suddenly pounding, he jerked his hand away. "Then why did you come here? Twice?"
"Doesn't matter." Draco stared into the dying flames. "Not anymore."
This was irritating, Harry was in no mood for the dramatic. He wanted Draco to face him, to feel his cold, slate eyes boring into his, hatefully if necessary. "Bullshit. You would be back at home with your family if that were true. Why are you here? What did you do?"
Draco didn't answer. His eyes remained focused on the fireplace, his jaw grinding as he gnawed on his lip. It looked painfully raw, almost bloody in places. Harry knew that he only chewed at it when nervous or uncomfortable, and the level of visible damage was clear proof that he'd spent the day in abject misery.
"What did you do?" he pressed.
When Draco turned to face him, his eyes were bloodshot and ringed with purple. His skin was ashen and there was a long scratch on his jaw intersecting another old scar Harry had put there so long ago. Silently he reached out, wrapping his arms around Harry's torso and snaking his frostbitten hands up under his shirt. He kissed him hard, his injured lips raking across Harry's as he squeezed him closer.
Harry pulled back. "Malfoy – "
"Don't say it again. I've already told you once… Don't say you don't remember." His voice was still low, but unsteady.
A twisting sensation in the pit of Harry's stomach told him that this was not the Draco he'd been living with for the past few months. He let himself be kissed again, and knew that it didn't matter right now. He kissed back, ignoring another barrage of cloudy memories demanding his attention and focusing on the cold body pressing him backward onto the cushions.
His shirt was dragged up over his head and he ripped at the buttons blocking access to the chest above him. He felt abused lips travel down to his neck and hands exploring his body in a way that was surreal and yet so familiar, like something impossible from a dream. His belt was unbuckled for him and he waited, filled with a nervous excitement and completely unsure of what should come next. He knew they had done this countless times, but he had no clear memory of the details. Was this right? Was this how it should be happening? He could hear Draco whispering something, but he lost focus as a hand brushed along the length of him.
He groaned, lost in the sensation and forgetting his concern for anyone's wellbeing but his own. He suddenly no longer cared what had brought Draco here tonight, or why he seemed so distraught. In the dimness of the living room, there was nothing but the feeling of the fingers teasing him and teeth raking along his collarbones. When it finally happened, when the first thrust came, his mind went mercifully blank and he let himself become immersed in the moment.
The dying fire cast a warm glow over Draco's pallid, sharp features and threw dark shadows across the hollows of his cheeks. Digging his fingers into Harry's jaw, he tilted his head up so that their eyes met as his pace quickened. There was no more kissing. There were no words. Breathing together, Harry moved his hips to match the rhythm as Draco dropped his forehead down onto his. It lasted only a few minutes; each groan louder than the last, each movement more desperate, more blissfully violent, until Draco finally collapsed onto Harry's chest.
Exhausted and spent, they walked to the bedroom together in silence. Under the covers, Harry wrapped his warm arm around the cool body pressed against his.
"What did you do, Draco?" he whispered.
"Don't call me that."
… … … …
Walking through the front door of the Burrow, it still felt like coming home. The rooms were oppressively warm and each was filled with people. With mountains of food and a never-ending succession of games, the Christmas Eve sped cheerfully by. That night, sitting in the kitchen, Harry clutched a scalding cup of tea and chatted happily with Arthur who was flicking absently through a newspaper. Ron was across from him, fiddling with a small box that had been troubling him terribly all day.
Despite the swirling chaos of a Weasley Christmas, Harry found himself perfectly content once he'd arrived. He'd decided to forget the twisted mess he'd made of his personal life while he was there and it was easy to convince himself that everything was alright in a place like this.
He hadn't been surprised to wake up alone that morning, but it was disappointing. The apartment was cold, he had no food, and so he'd packed quickly. It felt supremely important at the time to get out of there. If he was to linger, he would've only wound up obsessing over what had happened like he always did, and today wasn't the day for that kind of thing.
A decision needed to be made, that much was clear. He couldn't go on doing this to Ginny, and whatever kind of relationship he had with Draco was exciting, but it was also toxic and likely doomed. As much as it made him feel sick, he needed to choose. But it was Christmas, so he didn't have to choose today.
Ron opened the box and peered inside, his eyes growing wide as he took a deep breath.
Molly was at the sink, checking over the dishes and getting organized for lunch the next day. Opening up two dusty bottles of the same bitter wine Ginny had left at the flat, she sighed. "Ron, sweetie, you're so young. There really is no rush."
"She deserves a family, mum," he protested, still staring at the tiny box. "One that properly remembers her, at least."
"Yes, but aren't we already her family? I'm just saying, you can put it off for a year or so."
"Tonight's the night, mum." He snapped the box shut and stowed it in a pocket.
"I suppose your father and I were about the same age as you two." She smiled and kissed the top of her son's head. "When did you all get so grown up?"
"Harry and Ginny are next," Ron said. "Eh, mate?"
Harry cleared his throat and forced an awkward smile.
"Lucius Malfoy has gone missing," Arthur piped up from behind the paper, miraculously changing the awkward subject. When no one commented, he continued. "There's speculation that he was hunted down by some of the angry mob at the courtroom. People are worried that the others who were acquitted might be next to go."
"Here's hoping," Ron laughed, getting to his feet. "It's about time we called the girls down, I suppose."
Harry's stomach twisted violently and his ears rang as he stood to follow the others. The entire household crowded into the living room, each of them jostling for a better view. Harry stood still at the centre of it, his head swimming with concern and the intense heat of the house. When Ginny came thundering down the stairs and bounding toward him, he instinctively braced for impact and forced himself to focus on the happy moment unfolding before him.
He tried not to think of where Draco might be hiding out now if he was, indeed, on the run. It was terribly cold out.
When Hermione entered the room and immediately began to cry as Ron knelt down on one knee, Harry concentrated on his friend's heartwarming speech rather than who had taken - or likely killed - Lucius, and whether Draco had seen it happen. It was obvious now how terrified he'd been last night. Was that goodbye?
When Hermione said 'yes' and everyone cheered, Harry clapped along and smiled, glancing just once out the window into the frigid night. He congratulated his best friends and silently reassured himself:
Draco could take care of himself…
Draco was fine…
Draco was still alive...
